OCTOBER 13, 1997:
If there's a singular theme that binds Martin Sexton's songs together,
it's freedom--a vision of supreme, personal and artistic freedom
that permeates the 11 songs that make up Black Sheep, the
Boston musician's latest release. Songs like the album's title
track, "Glory Bound" and "Freedom of the Road"--on
which he sings literally of packing up and heading out on the
road--offer in-depth, if brief, glimpses of Sexton's vagabond
self. Songs like "Diner," "Caught in the Rain,"
"Love Keep Us Together," "Over My Head" and
"Can't Stop Thinking About You," on the other hand,
are more careful and secretive with their metaphors. For Martin
Sexton, freedom seems to embody itself in everything from the
standard R&B and blues fare of suitcases and trains to more
personalized symbolism that hints variously at his young son,
roadside diners, rusted red Chevys, crazy oceans and the ships
of his dreams that sail them. But regardless of how he chooses
to express his want of the road, his desire for connectedness,
neverending nights in lovers' arms and a place, ultimately, to
come home to, he does it like no one man with an acoustic guitar
you've ever heard. Martin Sexton, in his own poetic, poignant
way, adds meaning to lives he doesn't even know exist. His is
music that touches without reaching out, soars without ever leaving
the ground. Passion for his craft--to a rare degree--is essential
to the transcendent quality of the music that results. And Sexton's
noble humility is vital to his role as one of the most important
contributors to the contemporary folk music of his day.

"My first dream was to be an actor, and then a stuntman and
then, I think, a rock star," says Sexton in his whisper of
a baritone. "I got my first guitar when I was 14, and I had
my first band when I was 15--singing rock and roll. That's when
I decided that music was what I wanted to do. My life's dream
at that point was to be like the Beatles or Peter Frampton. Frampton
Comes Alive was an important record for me," he says,
with a sentimental chuckle.

Born into a not particularly musical family of 14 in Syracuse,
N.Y., Sexton's infatuation with singing came from listening to
Stevie Wonder records while his guitar influences included such
rockers as Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page. Eventually, Sexton's dreams
led him into the world of possibility and disappointment that
comes in making the transition from playing in bands as a hobby
to playing in bands as a career. "As I got a little older,
the dream of being a professional musician became a little more
practical," he says. "It went from the rock-star dream
to the dream of making a living playing music--from a 16 year
old playing Jimi Hendrix and not making a dime to a 19 year old
singing Top 40 and making some money."

After a few years spent hashing out thankless covers with a series
of Top 40 bands, Sexton began to feel the itch--the desire to
go his own musical way. "Top 40 was sort of gross, '80s music--Huey
Lewis, Ah-Ha, Tears For Fears--and I was forced to sing all of
this stuff that was way out of my range," says Sexton of
his bar band days. "I eventually got sick of all that, and
that's when I moved to Boston, picked up a guitar and started
writing my own songs."

It was at this point in his fledgling career--sometime in 1988--he
says, that he began anew musically. "Writing my own songs
sort of left me with the ability to really sing. And, later,
to take to the street a couple of songs I had written along with
a couple of Beatles' songs to test myself," he explains.
"The street was like a blender, it kind of forced me to take
these ingredients and abilities and some talent and whip it all
into a form of entertainment--to try and draw people in."
Taking it to the street, though, wasn't exactly a natural step
for the young musician. "I had to push myself to do it,"
Sexton confides. "I kept putting it off, and it didn't happen
for a long time after I moved to Boston--about nine months went
by before I actually went to the street." And in true-to-life
Cinderella story form, it was the sort of dead-end, decidedly
boring occupation that is the bane of any artist's existence that
finally set his musical career in motion. "I was sort of
pushed over the edge," he says, "because I had been
meaning to go to the street, but it wasn't until I was canned
from my job--I was working in a cafe--that I actually did it.
I had to go. I didn't really have a choice at that point."

And while he wasn't immediately comfortable singing and playing
on the streets and in the train stations of Boston, Sexton quickly
realized that making a living and taking his rightful place among
the bevy of singer-songwriters in the area meant he had to offer
something more than just daily renditions of his songs. So, in
1991--with limited funds, a few dedicated friends and quite a
bit of determination--he recorded a nine-track demo in a Boston
attic and set out to make himself known. While many members of
the "new folk" movement simply went about presenting
their songs to audiences without much thought given to presence
or persona, it occurred to Sexton that his listeners might be
more engaged--and therefore more inclined to buy his tape and
become part of a loyal following--if they saw themselves as an
integral part of his performances. That in mind, he began the
practice of actively recruiting passersby and astute listeners
to become participants in his music by teaching anyone who would
listen harmony vocal parts and simple, hand-clapped rhythms.

"The whole thing certainly started out when I was a street
performer," explains Sexton. "I think it came out of
the need to make my show bigger than myself." And the impromptu
musical education he received playing in the asphalt veins of
Boston gave Sexton the experience he needed to further his dream
and broaden his musical field of vision. "The street was
a segue. I pretty much performed solely on the street for about
a year," he says. "Then, that beautiful, great musical
experience sort of transitioned me into the clubs and coffeehouses.
And it wasn't long before I started getting weekly gigs here and
there."

His intimate, inclusive approach to performing live continues
to this day, "Because," says Sexton, "on a good
night, the show is larger than myself; it's the sum of the performer
and the audience. If there are a couple hundred people singing
harmonies, the thing takes on a life of its own as opposed to
me just standing there singing a bunch of songs. When the audience
and I start feeding each other," he continues, "that's
when it becomes something special."

Between regular street performances and scattered club and coffeehouse
gigs in the early '90s, Sexton managed to sell an unprecedented
16,000 copies of his demo tape (it has since been remastered for
CD, entitled In The Journey and is still available only
at Sexton's live shows) and went on to win two Boston Music Awards
and the 1994 National Academy of Songwriters "Artist of the
Year" award. With the 1996 release of Black Sheep,
his full-length debut on Eastern Front Records, Sexton almost
instantly caught the attention of critics and new audiences across
the country, all equally stunned. His multi-octave voice--slipping
effortlessly between the silky smooth incantations of Als Green
and Jarreau and the pure soul and unbridled emotion of Percy Mayfield
and Marvin Gaye--punctuates his expertly-honed fingerpicking guitar
style. Together, Sexton's extraordinary voice and thoughtful guitar
work serve to propel his songs to a plane on which spirituality
reigns supreme and melody is simply the everyday miracle that
translates his psyche into a musical language that can be understood
and appreciated by all.

"I used to use more of the D-A-D-G-A-D and open G tunings
and I still do, a little bit," Sexton says, "but I remember
seeing Ted Hawkins and being really blown away by his style. The
guy came out and sat on an orange crate and played this old, cheap
guitar. He didn't use a pick, just his fingers. He didn't even
play chords, really, he just laid his fingers over the frets and
played these barred notes. It was just simple, very strong structure.
That inspired me to play with my hands instead of with a pick."

Seeing the late, great Hawkins was a stylistic catalyst for Sexton
in other ways as well. "Seeing Ted Hawkins had a lot to do
with simplifying my style," he says, "because he never
used any (alternate) tunings, and I've since started a new approach."
And in adopting a more basic guitar playing style, Sexton has
been able to open new doors for himself vocally and as a songwriter.
"With some of the alternate tunings, songs can almost get
too pretty, effected almost. I'm so bass oriented--bass and rhythm--that
I play the guitar as if it were a bass, which is how basic my
approach is. I play bass lines and sort of tap the rhythm as I
do it on the body of the guitar. And I think that leaves all this
room, all this space for my voice to fill in. It lets the lyrics
come through and make the song rather than the other way around."

Martin Sexton's extraordinary music is tinted by a sense of truth
that is rare even among the finest songwriters of any given generation.
Bristling with passion, his boundless voice launches pure poetry
into song--a marriage of words, melody and mystic rhythm that
is instantly timeless. "Some of my favorite songs have come
at 2 a.m. at the kitchen table, recording onto my Dictaphone,"
says Sexton. "It just happens that way sometimes. It's pure
inspiration, and I rely on that as much as I rely on my ability
with my craft." With any luck, Sexton will continue to share
his early morning revelations on record and in person for a long
time to come. A recording project is scheduled for the winter,
and he plans to take some time off from the road in order to write
for the new record. "It's all in the timing," says Sexton,
and his time has certainly come.